A Second Chance
by imaginary iby
Summary: When Abby is shot, the team has to come to terms with the possibility of losing her. Final chapter, so I don't want to give anything away to prospective readers by writing a summary for the last part! Complete!
1. Chapter 1

With a stunning clarity that belied his less than perfect sight, Gibbs watched as blood seeped through Abby's white shirt, pooling just above the breast pocket to trickle down her chest.

Apart from the two of them and McGee, Ziva and Tony who were already in the car, the NCIS car park had seemed abandoned. She'd been bringing him coffee to tide him through a five AM case.

She'd called out his name and he'd turned. She'd smiled, holding up the coffee cup liked it was very special and as the distance between them closed, she'd reached out to hand it to him.

Before he could take it from her, the shot rang out. Her eyes widened, her entire body flinched, and she fell towards him as she gasped, inhaling with a rasp. The coffee cup fell from her grasp as her fingers went limp, splattering on the concrete. That was when the red appeared.

Feeling sluggish, he reached for her to hold her up. Seeking cover as the team sprang into action, he lowered her down to the ground behind the nearest car. Her eyes lost their focus, the pupils not indicative of what they were seeing.

"Abby! Abby, look at me! Focus!"

She seemed to hear his voice, tilting her head slightly in his direction.

"You're bossy." She choked.

He took off his NCIS windbreaker, rolled it up and pressed it to her. She cried out and he felt something vile rise in the back of his throat.

"Sorry."

A sad, lonely tear rolled down her cheek and he noticed how pale she was. Trying to convince himself that she was always pale, he pressed down harder on the wound.

"I have to stop the bleeding."

"Thanks," she whispered.

Her response almost made him laugh. Almost.

In the background, he heard Tony angrily, energetically yell that they'd got the shooter. The desire to put a few extra rounds into the bastard was only surpassed by the desire to stay right next to Abby.

Scrubs appeared in his peripheral vision. "Jethro! Jethro, let me get to her."

He felt Ziva's hand on his arm. "Let Ducky help."

He looked up at her, but clutched Abby's hand in his larger one, fingers weaving tightly into hers.

He was a Marine. A sniper. An NCIS Special Agent. He didn't panic. He'd watched people die before.

All this was true, but it didn't calm the feeling of electricity in his heart, as it stuttered and shook.

Shaking himself into action, he made room for Ducky. He didn't let go of her hand.

oooooooooooooooooooooo

Lt. Colonel Hollis Mann jogged down a hallway of the hospital. Seeing the red of Jen's hair, she slowed her pace and headed towards a sea of familiar faces.

McGee, the Director and the strange morgue boy were all seated, looking uncomfortable. Ziva paced a ten foot track and Tony stood, his back to the wall, hands clenched, a murderous look in his eyes.

"I got your call Director. What happened? Where's Gibbs? Abby and Ducky?"

Jen stood. "Ducky is consulting with the doctors. Abby's in post-op ICU, and Gibbs is with her."

Mann blinked. "Post-op? What happened?"

Pushing away from the wall, Tony let loose. "Abby got shot, that's what happened!" The glare of a passing nurse had him retreat back into his murderous mood and against the wall.

As she stood still, taking the news in, Ducky appeared through one of the many doors that lined the corridor. Everyone converged upon him, but he sat down wearily in one of the chairs.

"Abigail is holding."

Tony crossed his arms. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"It means that that tone won't get you what you want. Which, Anthony, is exactly what we all want, just for the record."

Suitably chastised, he nodded in apology.

"You wouldn't know it with all the caffeine she drinks, but beneath the sugar and coffee, she's a fit, healthy lady. Lord only knows how, she doesn't exercise."

McGee fiddled with the band of his watch. "What happened?"

Sighing, Ducky ran a hand through his hair. "The bullet missed her heart, but it punctured the left lung. Tension pneumothorax. The doctors released the pressure in the pleural cavity and the chest tube is helping to re-inflate it. The blood loss was less than what it could have been, thanks to Jethro. As annoying as it is, the phrase is fairly accurate; critical but stable. The main thing to look for is blood clots, pulmonary edema."

"Air in the lung?" A voice that was known but not particularly familiar piped up.

Ducky looked up. "Lieutenant Colonel Mann? What are you doing here?"

She blinked at him.

"I'm sorry, that was rude of me. I'm just flustered."

"That's fine, Doctor Mallard. Director Shepard called and asked me to come in."

"I'm afraid Jethro is in with Abby at the moment. I couldn't tell you when he'll be out. I think he's determined to keep Abby alive by sheer force of will through orders. She wouldn't dare die when told not to." A ghost of a smile played on his features.

Tony chuckled. "Well, I can attest to that. There was no way I was going to die when Gibbs told me not to. He'd have killed me."

The same door that Ducky had appeared though banged open, as three nurses and a burly security guard, all with their hands clamped on Gibbs' arms, ushered him out to his team.

"You do realize I can shoot you, don't you?" Gibbs threatened.

The security guard patted his own gun reassuringly and with a push, they let him go and walked back the way they'd came.

He turned to face his team and friends.

"Boss…" McGee trailed off.

Gibbs' blue shirt had red smattered all down the front, the windbreaker in the crook of his right arm splotchy with deep blue where the blood had soaked in. A smudge of blood dotted across his cheek and his hands, though roughly washed, were slightly raw with red on the sides of his fingernails.

He looked at them blankly. "I need coffee."

He walked down the corridor without a word as seven pairs of eyes watched him.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Mann found him staring at the coffee machine blankly.

Leaning against it, her shoulder pressed up against a large picture of a cartoon coffee bean with eyes, she looked at him and waited.

"She's going to die."

Mann frowned. "You don't know that."

He pressed a button absently. "Yes, I do. She's going to die."

"Your gut?"

"It's the same as before." It was clear he wasn't talking to her, and although it looked like he was talking to the coffee bean, she knew that also wasn't the case. "The same feeling, when I knew something had happened to them. Something bad had happened."

"Happened to who?"

Shaking himself into coherency, he focused and made his selection. With a slap, the paper cup fell into its slot and hot liquid started to pour into it.

"That was a long time ago." The cup filled and the machine went quiet. "If she…if she dies…I won't be able to…"

He turned and made his way back to the corridor the team was staking out. With a frown, Mann picked his cup up out of the machine and followed him.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Down the end of the hallway, Gibbs sat rigidly in one of the chairs, his eyes to the ceiling.

At the other end, McGee, Ziva and Tony sat on one side of the corridor, facing them on the other side sat Ducky, Jimmy, Jen and Mann. 

"You should have seen Abby's first day at NCIS. Gibbs was being…well, how he gets when things don't go his way, bless him, and Abby gave back as good as she got. Told him that unless he knew how to work a mass spectrometer then he should shut up and sit down because she would keep working until she solved it. Then she rolled a chair right at him. Nearly bowled him over. I almost felt an army roll was imminent. Three things Gibbs likes; spirit, a hard worker and results."

"So did she solve it?" McGee asked.

Ducky smiled, an eyebrow raised. "Of course. You know, they knew each other before she came to work at NCIS."

Tony sat up straighter. "Abby said they met at church."

Ducky laughed. "No, no. I don't know all the details. They both seem to get vague when I question them about it. From what I've gathered, they met at a lake."

"A lake?" Mann asked with disbelief.

Ducky nodded. "Yes. Abby was swimming, Gibbs was fishing. Somehow or rather their paths crossed. Neither will tell me more."

Ziva rubbed her cheek in memory. "Abby certainly does have spirit."

Tony shrugged. "She took a while to get settled with me. Apparently there's an adjustment process that people have to go though. The DiNozzo Effect, she called it."

Mann frowned. "Calls it."

Tony nodded and looked down the corridor at Gibbs. "Yeah."

Ducky and Ziva turned to look at him also.

"How do you think he is, Ducky?" she whispered.

Ducky sighed. "Angry, I'd say, although I am surprised he hasn't charged back into the office to investigate. Abby is…well, like I said, I don't even know exactly how they _met_ because they won't tell me. Abby is and always has been special to Gibbs. The first year she was here, people used to talk because he brought her coffee. Then we all got used to it. She was the person you went to if you needed a favour from the boss. I think he's disappointed that Tony shot the bastard, because he would have liked to have done it himself."

Tony crossed his arms. "Well, I'm not going to apologize."

With nods of agreement, silence fell upon the group, each caught up in their thoughts.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Jen stood, stretching. "We should head on home. Try and get some sleep. It's going to be a long day…" she looked at her watch, "…today."

Mann nodded and rose also, followed by Jimmy and Ducky.

Ziva shifted in her seat. "I might just go and get some food from the cafeteria. I don't feel like sleeping. Hungry, McGee, Tony?"

Tony shook his head, but McGee nodded and together they made their way down the corridor.

Shrugging her jacket on, Mann made her way down to Gibbs. He saw her coming and rose.

"Come on. I'll take you home."

He shook his head.

"Jethro, you need to get some sleep." She reached for his arm, but he moved backwards.

"I'm going to stay. You should go home."

Staring at him, in what she knew was a futile attempt to read his mood, she gave up and turned to follow Jen and the others.

As the corridor cleared out, Gibbs ambled down to sit next to Tony, who hadn't left his chair.

"We're not going to let her die, are we boss?"

He was quiet a second, breathing deeply before replying. "No, we're not."

Moments later, Ziva and McGee returned, bringing enough food and coffee to feed an army. Gibbs settled the sandwich that Ziva had handed him on his knee and took the cup of coffee McGee offered gratefully.

He was just about to take a sip when a flock of nurses ran down the corridor and the PA called a Code Blue to Abby's room.


	2. Chapter 2

Much love to the people who read and/or reviewed the first chapter. I hope you like this one, because chapter three will be on its way soon!

ooooooooooooooooooo

Rain battered the hospital, the slant that of a comet, splattering against earth, brick, concrete, material, metal and glass.

There had been a steady stream of ambulances through the entrance of the ER. Rain, torrential rain, meant car accidents. Sirens wailed in the background, and as Gibbs stood to the side and watched the tragic bustle around him, he knew that there would be more unhappy and hurt visitors arriving soon.

It was the life he lived, that of fending off death, but this time it felt surreal. He'd never really entertained the idea that Abby would end up arriving at a hospital in such a way. It was always a possibility with his agents. He'd been sure that if he kept Abby close, took care of her as he'd planned to right from the start, then she'd always be safe.

His shirt was completely soaked through, the once light blue now a deep dark. His bloody NCIS windbreaker sat on the grass beside him, mud sticking to it. His hair was plastered to his head.

Taking him completely by surprise, a rare occurrence, an old lady came to stand beside him. She had a large black umbrella over her head, but didn't offer it to him. With the same look, encased only in an older face, she stared out at the line of parked ambulances. The world was grey from the lack of sun, the sky heavy and black with fat crying clouds. The flash and swirl of the ambulance lights was the only real colour. Against the heavy pelting of rain, the only noise that competed was the wail of sirens and the shout of medical orders.

"So?"

Gibbs turned to look at her. "Sorry, ma'am?"

"Who's in there that's so special?" She nodded at the hospital.

He blinked rain out of his eyes. "A friend. A girl I know. A woman."

The old lady nodded. "My Benjy is in there. Benjamin. Fourth heart attack in fifteen years."

"I'm sorry to hear that, ma'am."

She shook her head and held out her hand. "Emma. Don't call me ma'am. Makes me feel old, and I'm a spring chicken."

He turned to shake her hand. "Jethro Gibbs."

"Gibbs eh? So, is she alright?"

"For now. She got shot, and there were complications, but she's ok."

"Shot? Dear, dear, that is an unlikely set of circumstances."

Gibbs wanted to tell her that is wasn't. It should have been for a forensic scientist, but he'd let Abby into his world with a hug, even though he knew he shouldn't have.

He moved to run his hand through his hair and Emma sighed beside him. "So, you're a Federal Agent, eh?"

Gibbs flicked his shirt that had ridden up back over the badge at his waist. He looked at her inquiringly with a hint of accusation in his glance. Her sigh had been one of understanding; as if knowing he was an investigator suddenly explained everything, explained getting shot. He nodded.

Emma switched the umbrella from one hand to the other. "Is she? This friend of yours."

"An agent? No, she's my forensic scientist." That was the problem.

Brushing rain off her coat that had fallen on her in the transfer, she tilted her head to the side. "Your sweetheart?"

Gibbs tried to think back on the last time he'd had someone that could in any way be called a sweetheart. An image of taking Melanie Delaney to the school dance came to mind, so it was obviously a long time ago. "In a way."

Emma raised an eyebrow skeptically but didn't press. "You know, Benjamin and I were together for forty-three years."

Gibbs started. "Were?"

Twisting the umbrella slightly to shake off a spider that had fallen from the tree above them, Emma nodded. "He died this morning."

Gibbs stilled, looking her in the eyes. "I'm sorry."

Emma smiled and shrugged her shoulders. "Time is time, Mr. Gibbs. It was his time, and soon it'll be mine. No, I don't think I fancy staying around for too much longer. I may be a spring chicken, but I'm a chicken from eighty-three springs ago." She chuckled. "The last time he was here four years ago, it rained just like this. I came out here, stood in the pouring rain and watched the ambulances. They are a sorry sight, aren't they?

Gibbs nodded, the image of Abby being wheeled out of one only yesterday strong.

"It seemed only fitting that I come back out here. You, my dear Mr. Gibbs, obviously thought so as well. This is the place we wait."

Gibbs didn't know why he'd picked this spot, but the hurt in front of him and the rain overhead seemed to suit his mood.

"What are you waiting for, Mr. Gibbs?"

He sighed, looking at the ground. "Her complications? She lost a lot of blood, lost oxygen to the brain. She may have suffered what the doctors are calling hypoxic brain injury."

Emma nodded, calmly and evenly, but her eyes were sad. Silence fell between them for a while, before she looked at her watch. "Time for me to call the children."

She stepped forward. "You know, every time Benjy was in the hospital, I came out here and waited, and things turned out alright. This morning, I was on my way in to the hospital when he passed. This is your spot now, Mr. Gibbs."

She handed him her umbrella and he took it from her, settling the bar over his shoulder. The rain still hammered the ground, but in the background, the sirens stopped wailing. Gibbs hoped that was a good sign.

ooooooooooooooooooo

When the rain finally cleared, Gibbs slid the brolly in front of him and shook it, spraying droplets like a wet dog drying off. Folding it up, he twisted and clasped the small button. Resting it against the tree carefully, he scooped the windbreaker off from the ground, shook off the mud and made his way into the hospital.

McGee and Ziva had practically picked Tony up whilst he'd been napping in one of the hospital chairs and taken him home to get some rest. There had been protestations about kidnapping and being a federal agent, but they'd insisted and he'd eventually left the hospital.

As Gibbs made his way down the corridor in ICU where Abby was, he noticed two familiar old faces. One, the man, was writing hurriedly on a piece of paper pressed up against the wall, whilst the other, the woman, was hovering next to a nurse. Abby's mum and dad. Heading towards them, he waved his arm to get their attention.

Gloria saw him first, and with visible relief tapped her husband on the shoulder. Together they turned and all but ran towards him, their hands flying. He began to sign back.

It had been a few years since Gibbs had met Gloria and George, but their signing was as beautifully fluid as he remembered. His signing, and even Abby's, required a fraction of a second's conversion, whereas theirs was second nature.

The nurse was also relieved. "You know ASL? Thank god, I've been waiting for a translator for twenty minutes."

As Gibbs turned to Gloria, she threw her arms around him and hugged him tightly. Overcoming his shock, she was a Sciuto after all, he hugged her back gently before pulling away.

"Would you mind translating her condition to them?" the nurse asked.

When Gibbs nodded, she turned to the couple and began to explain. Pleased that she was looking to the people she was speaking to, and not the translator as was often the case, he began to sign.

"Her vitals are strong and stable at the moment. The real issue is to see how she is when she wakes up. We can't determine the damage until she does." She sighed and lowered her voice, even though they couldn't hear. "It is important to understand that she may not wake up, Mr. and Mrs. Sciuto."

As Gibbs stopped moving and settled his hands by his side, George shook and sat down in a chair along the wall.

ooooooooooo

Gloria and George emerged from Abby's room an hour later. As was his way, Gibbs rose to meet them.

George held his hand out to shake, and Gibbs hesitantly slipped his hand into the older man's. George had a firm grip.

Gloria put her hand on his shoulder and together, the three of them sat down. Gibbs and Gloria on one side of the corridor, George on the other so they could accommodate conversation.

George caught his eye and started to sign. _Thankyou for taking care of our little girl._

Gibbs couldn't quite look him in the eye and Gloria sighed. "Gibbs," she said, the word from her mouth sounding strange yet comforting. She started signing again. _It may have been a while since we've seen each other, Gibbs, but you are as we remembered_. _Abby has told us about you. You must not think this is your fault. You have protected her from everything that has tried to hurt her. You could not have known this would happen and short of stepping in front of the bullet, which I am sure you would have, there was nothing to be done._

He nodded, still unconvinced but comforted that they at least thought so.

George rose and turned to help Gloria up_. We are going in search of a Caf-Pow. If anything can wake her, it's the sickly sweet smell of sugar and caffeine._

Gibbs laughed, a real true laugh and rose from his chair also.

At the corner, Gloria turned back to look at him. _You should sit with her. She would feel better, I'm sure._

In between the operating room that he'd been unceremoniously kicked out of, the corridor with the team and the cold rain with Emma, Gibbs hadn't seen Abby in hours.

Nodding in agreement, he made his way to the door. Pushing it open, he took in the sight of her.

A chest tube ran from her side, with another in her wrist. A tube underneath her nose helped her breath. She was pale, incredibly pale

Stilling for a second, he put a hand against the wall. Walking slowly, he made his way over to the window. Scanning the room, acutely uncomfortable he leant against the ledge of the windowsill.

Machines beep beeped and hummed away, lights flickered. Taking a second to listen, he felt agitated. Scanning the room again, his eyes fell on a chair. He tucked the windbreaker that he was still carrying around for some inexplicable reason into the corner, and picked the chair up and carried it to the bed.

Looking at her hesitantly, he sat down in it. Putting an arm on the bed by her side, away from her body for fear of causing damage, he leant his head on his elbow. He laced his free hand through hers that lay limply by her side. Deciding to start somewhere, he started to rub her palm gently in the hopes of warming it up.

Slowly, the world faded away as he fell asleep.


	3. Chapter 3

Perched high up in a tree, Gibbs could feel the skin on the back of his neck burn, a tiny sliver between his helmet and the collar of his uniform. Hidden in the foliage, he'd been sitting in the crook of two branches for several hours, three hundred meters outside the compound of his target. Intel indicated that a weapons dealer and the money-man behind several terrorists bombings lived just beyond the gates, and his carefully selected tree looked directly into the lot. His M40A1 rested on the branch that snaked in front of him, ready to be used the minute the target came into view.

Ignoring the wolf-spider that crawled past his arm, he looked through the scope as men started to leave the main building. His target appeared, walking towards the car that waited in the drive. Looking through the crosshairs, he lined up the shot. About to pull the trigger, her felt something brush his finger. With the window of firing opportunity decreasing, he ignored the spider crawling along the back of his hand. Focusing on the task at hand, he kept his hand steady and let the spider do what it may, but something tugged at his finger again. It seemed to be moving all over his hand at once, and the spider had been too small for that.

Not knowing what he was doing, his hand moved away from the trigger.

Just as the target got into his car, Gibbs looked away from the scope and up into Abby's face.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooo

She blinked at him imploringly, her hand gripping his tightly, pulling on his index finger, the panic in her eyes obvious.

"Gib?" her voice was crackly, still recovering from the trauma of having tubes stuck down it.

"Abby?" He stood up, and brushed her forehead gently, ignoring the stiffness in his arm from having slept on it. "Abby, say something."

She blinked confusedly, her breathing slow as she struggled to find a rhythm. "Hink-ey." There was a pause between the two syllables, as she breathed in.

He rolled his eyes, but his smile was getting larger. "Abby, say a real word."

"It is." She blinked enough times to work a scowl onto her features.

He knew it was to her, and that was enough. Reaching forward, he pressed the button on the wall to call a nurse before brushing her bangs to the side of her face, out of her eyes.

He sighed with relief, resting his temple against hers gently. Pulling back reluctantly when the sound of feet approached, he turned as the nurse came into the room.

oooooooooooooooooooooooo

News of Abby's waking up spread like wildfire. It wasn't long before the team was prowling the halls, waiting for her to get back from the never ending barrage of tests. Jen had promised to visit after work, and Tony came with the task of delivering the best wishes of the office.

Even though she'd been able to communicate with Gibbs upon waking up, there had still been a lot to determine.

Ducky had been sent off to liaise with the Doctors, but Gibbs' announcement that she could tell a circle from a square and could name more than four animals that started with H had people in high hopes. Ducky's confirmation, complete with an exasperated sigh at his long-time friend; that she had suffered no neurological damage, was met with cheers. Recovery would take time, and she would have to be monitored for a while, but she was on the right path.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Tony tried to walk past Abby's door as inconspicuously as possible. He, McGee and Ziva had been taking turns walking past her room, hoping to catch some of what was going on inside. Abby and Gibbs had been talking for twenty minutes, but their conversation was quiet, Gibbs' mouth pressed close to her ear as he sat beside her on her bed.

Just as Tony reached to high-five McGee at the end of the corridor, as he'd taken to doing when the Probie was about to take his turn, Gibbs called out and the three agents all but ran to attention.

"Yes, boss?"

Gibbs raised an eyebrow. "I'm going home to take a shower and change. Just thought you ought to know, seeing as you're trying to record this conversation for posterity."

Tony nodded guiltily, knowing they hadn't been very convincing in their reconnaissance.

Gibbs stood, kissed Abby's cheek and made his way to the door. With a gentle nod, he beckoned Tony outside into the hallway.

Following, adjusting his tie, he came to stand in front of his boss.

"What's up?"

Gibbs shrugged his jacket on. "Take care of her, DiNozzo. You know Abby, she won't even realize she's tired until she gets _too_ tired. She won't admit to anything either."

"Of course." He made to walk back into her room, but felt a hand on his elbow.

"Tony. Take care of her." His tone was serious.

"I will boss. I will." He nodded slowly, the look in his eye nothing but seriousness.

Gibbs patted him on the arm in thanks before making his way down the corridor.

Tony re-entered Abby's room just in time to see Ziva tentatively, gently curl her hand around Abby's wrist. McGee was saying something about making Forensic Scientist Amy Sutton the hero and female protagonist of his next book, which made Abby laugh.

Her laugh quickly developed into a dreadful cough. Stepping forward, he jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "My minions, the quest I put before you is most dangerous, but I have faith in your abilities. Operation-Ice-Chip-Retrieval-From-Scary-German-Nurse is now active and looking for volunteers. Oh, I guess that's you." He pointed to McGee and Ziva. "Scatter."

Glaring at him, they made their way past him and out into the corridor.

Between coughs, Abby managed to splutter out that she didn't really want ice-chips.

Tony sat beside her and slipped his arms very gently around her. He was surprised at just how slim Abby was; beneath her usual multiple, spiky layers was a delicate form. One hand on her side, one on the small of her back, he helped her sit up, resting her against his chest and head on his shoulder.

Careful not to press against the bullet wound and surrounding stitches from where the doctors had operated, not to mention the tubes, he sat her in a position where she could catch her breath.

She sighed deeply. "Where'd you learn how to do that?"

Pulling away and settling her gently back into her pillows, he smiled. "An old nanny. Rosita-Louisa. I got pneumonia when I was eight, and she took care of me. She told me not to play in the snow, but did I listen?"

'You come from a nanny family? I might just have to review my file on you, Anthony DiNozzo."

"What file, you little sleuth?"

"Well, if I told you I wouldn't be a very good sleuth then, would I? I can't raise my arms at the moment, but picture me tapping my nose in all manner of creepy."

Tony wiggled his eyebrows. "Instruction acknowledged, master."

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

After getting a few hours shut-eye, a wash and a shave, Gibbs went round to Abby's place to pick a few things up. As ever, he was bowled over by the amount of stuff she had, not to mention…well, the stuff she had, but he managed to find what he was after. A few pairs of baggy pants and tops, some knickers, (which he'd say Ziva had found), some toiletries, (which four wives or no still conjured up images he didn't want to deal with) and some slippers, which for some reason he'd found in the fridge when he'd gone to clean out the perishables.

With an easy nod to the staff, he walked what was now a familiar route to Abby's room, only to find McGee, Ziva and Jen standing in the corridor looking unsettled. A weight started to settle low in his stomach. He hadn't felt this coming.

"What's wrong?"

Jen turned to him. "Relax, Jethro. Abby was just a bit sick. They removed some of the tubes and it made her a little nauseated."

Gibbs nodded, breathing deeply. "Where's Tony?"

"In there." She pointed to the room, an eyebrow raised in warning. "He was just telling the nurses, very politely, that he was not leaving Abby's room. Something about his boss drumming up extradition papers, which lead to a very interesting explanation to the security guard that he was not in fact a criminal, but a federal agent of the United States, the country he was born in."

Gibbs had the good graces to look to her left for a second, before catching her gaze again. Making his way to the door, he was relieved to see that Abby had settled down. Beckoning to Tony, he opened the door wider to let his 21C through into the hallway.

"I want you to start on the case. I've let things slip. Ducky and Palmer are at the office, Ziva and McGee will leave with you."

Tony blinked, the responsibility he was being given a shock. "Boss, don't you want to lead this one?"

Gibbs looked him in the eye. "I will, but not yet. I have to be here at the moment. I need you to start this."

Nodding, somewhat solemnly, Tony went back into the room and spoke quietly to Ziva and McGee. The three of them formed a line, said goodbye to Abby with kisses and made their way past Gibbs in the corridor.

Stepping into Abby's room and shutting the door gently, Gibbs dropped the bag with Abby's stuff into the corner of the room, startled to find the bloodied windbreaker that he'd stashed there a few days before. Ignoring it as best he could, he moved the bag to another corner and sat down in his chair by her bed.

"Hey, Gibbs."

He shushed her. "No, talking. Sleep."

She smiled gratefully and closed her eyes, her hand seeking his.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Holding his P-90 in front of him, his rifle slung over his arm by a sturdy strap and buckled to his back, Gibbs made his way through the abandoned town. The area was a hotspot, and a USMC platoon was about to move in to make it a base. Gibbs had been sent ahead to establish sniper observation sites for the platoon sniper. The dust coated everything, and as he moved, brushing along the broken walls for whatever protection they could give him, his uniform collected a lot of it. The quiet was eerie, people's washing still hooked out to catch the sun, long since dry.

Ducking behind a door when he heard a noise, he stilled. Quiet returned, before the noise sounded again. Someone, a woman, was crying. Creeping out of the house and doubling back to cross the street where there was cover, he made his way to the noise. A ruse was not out of the question. Finding the location of the whimpering, he nudged the door of a house open with a foot.

A woman, in her thirties was lying on the floor. A cut on her stomach was bleeding profusely and she looked up at him in fear. Clearing the room, Gibbs knelt beside her and tried to signal that he was going to help her. He reached into his vest for the bandage that was rolled up tightly into a pocket.

Unwinding it, he looked up, at Abby.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Slipping out of his chair quickly and quietly, Gibbs sat on the bed beside Abby, taking her gently into his arms as she cried into his shoulder.


	4. Chapter 4

Sniffling, but calmer than she'd been five minutes before, Abby pulled away and with Gibbs' help, nestled back into her pillows. He trailed a thumb along her jaw, wiping away the last of her tears.

"Alright?"

She sniffled again and nodded her head meekly. Gibbs didn't think he'd ever seen Abby do anything meekly. With the cuff of his jacket, he brushed her cheeks dry before leaning back to inspect her.

"What's wrong, Abby?"

She shrugged, the movement tiny so as not to stretch anything. "Just don't feel well. Funny medicine. Sore. Plus, I…" She trailed off, looking down hesitantly.

Gibbs leant over to catch her gaze, one hand by her hip, the other under her chin. "You what?"

Blinking rapidly to chase off the new tears that were threatening to fall – she would not allow them – she smiled sadly. "Well, I looked." She nodded down at her chest. "I kind of resemble a patchwork quilt."

Dropping his hand to the mattress, Gibbs quirked an eyebrow, not quite catching on.

"Bandages and stitches left, right and centre. Not to mention that I have a round hole in my chest. Well, two if you count the tube. Not a pretty sight…it's kind of making me rethink the artwork in my lab."

Gibbs' mind flashed to the fluorescent destroyed spine picture that sat on her wall and made a mental note to take it down. "It'll heal, Abs. Trust me."

She nodded and her gaze darted to his shoulder. "Yeah, I know. It's just…well, I studied ballistics at college, but I never thought I'd get this particular perspective, you know?" She closed her eyes and sighed, but the sound wasn't altogether unhappy.

Reaching forward, he brushed her bangs out of her eyes. "Tired?"

She nodded, but blinked her eyes open. "A bit. Where are mum and dad?"

Gibbs turned to look at the door. "They should be here soon . They've come to see you a couple of times, but you've been sleeping."

She raised an eyebrow. "Thanks for taking care of them. You'd think it would be easy to find people who sign in a hospital."

"Your parents are just like I remember them. Your dad is either going to hug me or shoot me, and I'm not sure which"

She laughed lightly. "My mum thinks you're practically James Bond. NCIS Investigators and Marine Snipers are not people that she meets everyday."

"I would never go to the trouble of getting a vodka martini shaken not stirred, when I could just have it neat."

She was about to reply when two people rather noiselessly walked through the door. Gibbs watched as Abby's face lit up in the presence of her parents. Without communication, she was kissed on the cheek by her mother and patted gently on the head by her father.

He made to stand, but Abby grabbed his wrist. Gloria just rolled her eyes and started signing.

_And they say chivalry is dead. Goodness Leroy, you don't have to stand every time you see me._

Nodding in concession as Abby laughed, mostly because she knew Gibbs would never tell her mother not to call him Leroy, Gibbs settled back down on the bed. By the way George was looking at him though, he wanted to get up not out of a sense of politeness but rather self-preservation.

Abby squeezed his wrist. "You should stay. Sign for me. I may as well be a snake, for all the good my arms are."

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Twenty minutes later, Gibbs left Abby's room. Silence had fallen, as the Sciuto family sat happy just to be in each other's company.

After braving the coffee machine, and this time remembering to take his drink, he made his way to his car. Setting his phone into the hand's free, he turned the ignition, pressed two on his speed-dial and waited for Tony to answer.

"DiNozzo," sounded through the speaker.

He started to back the car out. "It's Gibbs. What have you got on the shooter?"

There was a hesitant pause, before his 2IC continued. "You're not going to like it."

Gibbs waited for him to elaborate.

"Palmer and Ducky ran the prints. There was a homeland security alert out. Shooter's name is Javier Ramirez, who from what we can tell..."

Gibbs almost accelerated without taking the car out of reverse. "What!?"

Tony coughed awkwardly over the phone. "Yeah, Ziva said that would be your reaction."

Arguing furiously with the gear stick, Gibbs drove the car back into the park, jumped out and made his way back to the hospital.

"Boss? Boss? No Ziva, he hung up on me."

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Gibbs made his way to Abby's room swiftly, ignoring the confused looks of nurses who could have sworn he'd just left. Slowing down as he arrived at her door, he realized that Gloria and George were still in the room.

_Leroy, I thought you were going back to the office?_

Abby looked at him confusedly, but then a sort of realization crept across her face. She'd been trying not to think about the shooter too much, but she'd known that it was an issue that would have to be dealt with at some point.

"What's wrong?"

Gibbs turned from her, her gaze too much to take, and started to sign to her parents. _Would you mind if I talked to Abby for a moment?_

It was obvious that Mr. and Mrs. Sciuto were concerned, but they were sensible people and knew the delicacy of the situation.

_We'll go to the cafeteria. She doesn't like us drinking coffee in front of her when she can't have any._

Abby poked out her tongue, hoping to get a laugh and she wasn't disappointed, but it was clear that she was still acutely aware of the tension rolling off Gibbs in waves.

Stepping into the room to let her parents leave, Gibbs chose not to sit in the chair by her bed, but instead made his way to the window. His damn windbreaker was still there.

Gibbs wasn't the sort of person to skirt around the edges or hover nervously, but his words came hesitantly all the same.

"We got an ID. Homeland security picked it up. The shooter's name is Javier Ramirez."

Abby blinked. "Well…that doesn't really mean anything to me. Obviously, it means something to you."

He nodded, looking at her body instead of her eyes, but gave that up when he landed upon the tube in her wrist. "Yeah, it does. Javier Ramirez is the son of Carlos Ramirez."

Abby shook her head, still not knowing where this was all going. She patted the bed beside her, motioning him over. After a second, he made his way to her and sat by her hip. Twisting to face her, he tucked her hair behind her ears and smiled, somewhat sadly.

"Carlos Ramirez was a Mexican drug-dealer. He's the man who murdered Shannon and Kelly. I tracked him down and killed him. Javier is his son, who apparently felt shooting you would be appropriate retribution. Copying his father."

"But I'm not…I mean, Shannon and Kelly, they were…I'm just…" she trailed off, perplexed.

Gibbs could guess as to the nature of her questions, and he was fairly sure they were ones he didn't particularly want to answer.

He looked for a way to get the spotlight off the situation and onto an old one. "Well, Ari tried it." It; the notion of going after Abby to get to him. To weaken him. The conversational tactic turned out to be a mistake, because the memory of another time she'd nearly been killed only served to make her nervous and him angry. She buried herself into her pillows, grimacing slightly.

Gibbs slipped one hand to her shoulder and the other to her hip, helping her ease herself down.

"I know you're not going to listen to me when I tell you not to blame yourself."

He adjusted her pillow under her head. "We're not doing this now."

She raised an eyebrow in warning. "You bet we're doing this now. I'm the one in the bed, and as such I get to say what we're doing."

Gibbs narrowed his eyes at her. "I could always leave."

They both knew it was an empty threat. "I don't care what it takes. Letter, e-mail, haiku, telegraph, semaphore flags, sky writing, I'm going to keep telling you it's not your fault until you believe me. I'll tattoo it on your forehead. Hey, I'll tattoo it on my forehead, my artists has been bugging me to go facial for ages."

Gibbs nodded, but she wasn't convinced.

"Please, Gibbs. It's really important you believe me. It was what's his name's…Javier's stupid decision to come here and start this. Let's not forget the homeland security alert either, he's obviously no saint."

"Neither am I, Abby. You always forget that."

A flash of hurt crossed her face. "No, I don't. I'm not as naïve as you like to think, Gibbs. Just because I work in the lab doesn't mean I don't know what goes on in the world. Do you really believe I have no concept of what it is you used to do in the Marines? That I somehow think that you used to hand out candy to the enemy instead of bullets? I've just been shot, Gibbs, I get the real world. Give me a break."

He shuffled closer, leaning over her, a hand on each side of her, elbows braced. "Hey, I'm sorry. It's just, sometimes you have more faith in me than I think I can handle."

"Sometimes you think I can pull non-existent magical answers out of my magical forensics hat, but it's just something I have to live with. Carlos is dead. Javier is dead. I'm alive, you're alive. That's fact, not faith."

He nodded slowly, but with more conviction. She knew it would take time; Gibbs was a person who shouldered responsibility and that wasn't something she could just change in a day.

She raised an arm slowly and gently rested her hand against her chest, practically hovering over the skin. She eyed him contemplatively. "Lean forward, will you?"

Confused, but obliging, he shifted forward until she told him to stop. His chest only inches from hers, his mouth by her ear, he sincerely hoped Gloria and George didn't choose this moment to come back. "What're you doing, Abby?"

She didn't answer, but he pieced it all together easily enough when gentle, long fingers slipped under the lapels of his jacket and over his left collarbone. It couldn't be felt through the material of his shirt and undershirt, but the puckered scar of an old bullet wound was still there.

"It heals alright, doesn't it?"

He made another mental note to take down the pictures in her lab. "Yeah, it heals alright."

He couldn't see it, but he knew she'd opened her mouth when he felt her breath on his ear. No doubt she had her tongue between her teeth as she thought something through.

"Will you show it to me?"

ooooooooooooooooooooo

I haven't actually seen Hiatus One and Two, because I find the story sort of irritating, not to mention distressing. My prejudice, I know, and I nurse it poorly. So, I just sort of used the the premise of the episode, with the Mexican drug-dealer, for the story. I don't know if his name was given in the show. I've just extrapolated and morphed from there.

Please review!


	5. Chapter 5

Thanks so very much to all the people who've read and reviewed this. You make me squee!

Ali? No, sorry to disappoint, but this is most definitely _not_ McAbby. It is Abby/Gibbs. Hope that's ok!

- - - -

Gibbs pulled back slightly, bringing his nose from beside her ear to against her cheek. He felt Abby's fingers lift from his skin and slip out from beneath his jacket. He couldn't help but wish that some form of physical contact remained, so he curled his hand gently around her side at her hip. Her skin was warm through her pyjamas and he felt a deep sense of relief at the fact. The memory of her cold fingers resting limply in his hands only days before was one he hoped didn't linger.

"What?"

"Will you show it to me?"

"Abby…" he trailed off, as usual condensing a hundred words into her name.

"Look, I know it's stupid, but I figure that if I see yours, then I know I'll be alright."

"Of course you'll be alright. I've told you you'll be alright."

She rolled her eyes at him. "I know you hold the power of your order in high regard, but I hate to break it to you Gibbs – that isn't the way things work."

He opened his mouth to speak, but wasn't entirely sure what to say.

Her hand slipped underneath the lapels of his jacket again, rubbing gently over the spot where she estimated the bullet wound to be. The action created a contented feeling something akin to a dog being scratched behind the ears. He leant forward, his lips pressing lightly against her skin, his breath blowing gently against her cheek. He shifted the hand on her waist slightly, reveling in the soft, warm, squishy feel of her skin moving under his fingers.

Gaining control of himself, he raised his eyes to the creamy coloured ceiling, sighed bracingly and leant back.

"If you tell _anyone_ that I did this, I'm going to take Bert to a dark deserted place."

She smiled, knowing that he knew better than to mess with the hippo. "Relax, I won't tell anyone you're going to strip for me."

He raised his eyebrows. "If you even mention that word, I'm going to take _you_ to a dark, deserted place."

"And do what with me?" She bit her tongue through a smile.

He glared at her and leant back, reluctantly taking his hand from her hip. Casting a glance at the door and pricking his ears for the noise of feet, he slipped his jacket off his shoulders. Laying it on the bed over Abby's legs, he looked just to the right of her eyes and undid the top few buttons of his black shirt.

She was smirking at him, and he couldn't help but respond. "You. Be a good girl."

She raised her eyebrows and opened her mouth, a perfect feign of indignation.

He fingered the top of the plain black t-shirt he was wearing underneath the shirt and tugged it down and to the side. It was old and worn and gave quite a bit; the top of his shoulder was visible, as well as his collarbone. Somewhere in the middle was the round, shiny white scar. It wasn't large, and in certain lights it couldn't even be seen.

From as close as Abby was though, it was there. Her smirk slipped and she eyed it hesitantly, before slowly, slowly reaching up to touch it. Gibbs steadied himself.

For a few moments, she traced lightly around it, but after a while, her fingers strayed. She traced the line of his collarbone for as long as she could before it disappeared to become the other, still hidden under the shirt. Her fingers slid up his neck, slowly so as not to tickle, and ran over his Adam's apple curiously.

She leant forward slowly, to press her lips to his jaw. His eyelids slid closed as he felt the soft, slightly wet feel of her lips on his skin, and he slid his hand around to the back of her head, completely unsure of what the hell he was doing but knowing that she needed support to hold herself up.

She tilted her head and pressed two kisses down the side of his neck. He could feel from her slight trembling that holding herself up at a 120 degree angle was a strain, so slipping his hand from the top of his shirt to her shoulder, he gently guided her back into the pillows. His hand behind her head felt the warm cotton of linen and he slipped it out from beneath her, moving it to her cheek. Leaning over her, he pressed his lips to hers. It was only quick, partly because breathing wasn't coming to her as easily as it normally did in her injured state, and partly because he was afraid he was going to break her.

Breaking away an inch before kissing her again for good measure, nothing more than his lips against hers and his hand on her jaw, he finally pulled away and sat up.

She smiled up at him goofily, in true Abby fashion. "Normally, I'm a much better kisser. I'm kind of floppy pyjama girl at the moment, but I've got moves!" She poked her tongue out at him.

Gibbs couldn't help but laugh.

- - - -

_Two days later._

Ducky glared at the drawer that held Javier Ramirez, even though the man was dead and couldn't possibly glare back. Performing an autopsy on the enemy was always difficult, but Ducky never let morals be questioned. Didn't mean he could glare though.

His glare was interrupted by Mr. Palmer walking into his field of vision. His young apprentice had been muttering a few choice obscenities directed in the cold body's general direction all morning, but had otherwise chosen to remain quiet. It was obvious that they were both unsettled by being left in charge of the man who had nearly killed their dear friend. Ducky was just about to suggest a break from the silver and metal of the morgue when Hollis Mann, in civvies, brushed through the doors.

"Good morning, Doctor Mallard." She moved to stand just in front of the sensors of the sliding door, but made her way no further into the room.

Ducky placed the clipboard he'd been holding onto on one of the autopsy tables. "Good morning, Lt. Colonel Mann. I didn't expect to see you here." He had the vague impression that he always, unintentionally yet rudely, seemed to say that to her every time he saw her. "How may I help you?"

"I was just checking in to see how Abby was."

"Oh my dear, you should go and visit her! Abby is fond of visitors and I'm sure she'd like to see you." There was a tiny part of him that didn't quite believe that was entirely true. Abby had never really taken to anybody Gibbs saw on a social basis, (even if it was a sketchy intermittent basis) particularly well. Rather like how Gibbs was prone to grilling anybody the forensic scientist dallied with, particularly after Mikel Mawher.

The knowing expression that was currently being sent his way made him shuffle his feet; clearly Mann knew she wasn't at the top of the expected visitors list.

"I assure you, Abigail knows a kind gesture when she sees it. Any… differences of opinion you two might have had in the past would not stop her from appreciating you checking in."

Mann stuck her hands in her pockets. "Gibbs will be there?"

Ducky picked up the clipboard, using it to delay his answer. "Yes. He left about an hour ago. The doctors want to get Abby sitting up on her own a little, now that she's gained a bit of upper body strength."

Mann smiled brightly. "That's good."

Ducky smiled at the sincerity in her voice, and hated what he needed to say next. "If I may, Colonel Mann, I ask that you not visit _today_. Abby does not like people seeing her cry, and moving weak muscles and torn skin is going to be stressful for her. As it is, she'll be mightily ticked off that Gibbs has gone, but he's always been the person she's chosen when she's needed help."

Mann nodded in understanding, but her thoughtful expression looked like she was understanding more than he was saying. "Of course, Doctor Mallard. I'll visit her when she's feeling better."

Ducky nodded. "I'm sure Gibbs will tell you when she's up to company."

Mann's gaze flickered to the left for a second. "Or you?"

Ducky frowned slightly. "Well yes, certainly. But, I'm sure Gibbs will call you."

Mann smiled, somewhat sadly, but her body language gave off the feeling of calm acceptance. "He wants to be there. Every second he wants to be there with her. Which is ok, because she wants him to be there."

Positively awkward, Ducky shifted his clipboard to his other hand. He was a perceptive man, and he'd always known that Abby and Gibbs cared about each other, but the pair of them had always been something of a mystery to him. Probably because they were a mystery to each other. He still remembered the day, six months after Abby had arrived at NCIS, when Gibbs had come down to the morgue and showed him with uncharacteristic bewilderment the "brave boy" sticker the forensic scientist had stuck on the back of his hand. He'd watched as the highly trained investigator struggled to understand just how she'd managed to get away with it.

With both a sense of surprise and a sense that everything was falling into place, Ducky looked at Mr. Palmer, who's stopped cleaning instruments to listen in on the conversation.

"Well, we're entering into territory I'm not sure I'm quite qualified to navigate."

Mann laughed. "You do have a way with words, Doctor Mallard."

He smiled. "Please, call me Ducky."

Mann smiled back. "Ducky." She took her hands out of her pockets and turned back to the door. "So, you'll call me when Abby's better?"

Ducky knew the particulars of his answer meant something. He couldn't promise that Gibbs would call, because his old friend had been focused on nothing but Abby all week. "Yes, I'll call you."

- - - -

With a murderous glare, Abby stared daggers at the retreating back of the physical therapist as he left the appointment. "Honestly, I haven't forgotten how to walk." She wiped a stray tear away from her cheek in challenge.

"They just want to keep your muscles moving until you can get out of bed." Gibbs sipped his coffee.

She raised an eyebrow angrily. "I can get out of bed already! See!"

She made to fling the blankets off, but he quickly sat down beside her. "It's so much easier to kiss your neck when you're in bed though."

She humphed, and made to cross her arms tightly before quickly averting the action and dropping her hands on her outstretched legs. As if to make a point, he kissed her neck, darting his tongue out to lick at a strand of the spider-web.

"I'm only going to be nice if you give me some coffee."

He nipped at her ear and tugged, shaking his head. "Nope."

She humphed again, but there was a slight laugh to it as he pressed kisses against her skin.


	6. Chapter 6

Sorry for the delay! My computer was being rebellious; an experience I'm sure many of you empathize with. After screaming at it angrily and beating it soundly with a trout, it's working again.

- - - -

Five Months Later

- - - -

With the paper spread before him on the kitchen table, Gibbs perused the news with one eye and watched Abby with the other. She was munching happily on a piece of toast, the instruction manual for his remote control propped up on the edge of her plate as she studied how to program his television. She'd only been at it for a few minutes, but Gibbs had the feeling that the T.V had just evolved rapidly into something scarily futuristic.

She brushed crumbs from her shirt. Technically, it was his shirt; the old black button down from their first encounter in the hospital, but she'd claimed it as hers. It was several sizes too big for her and fell to her thighs, but he didn't really want to steal it back if she was going to be wearing it all the time. Especially with just underwear underneath.

The first few buttons were undone, and when she reached down to scratch her ankle, it gaped open and Gibbs felt that perhaps the newspaper could wait. He studied the progress of her skin. Her chest was still sore, the scars and stitches sensitive and for a long time, Gibbs had treated her delicately. He still did, but she'd long ago stopped flinching if something came into contact with the wounds. Her progression to sleeping on her stomach had been something of a milestone.

She looked back at the instruction booklet. "I know you're looking down my shirt, Gibbs."

He raised an eyebrow. "My shirt. I was just seeing how the scars were coming along."

'Scars' wasn't a word they skirted around. She took another bite of her toast and flicked a page. "They don't hurt any more. I can get you Digital." She looked up at him and smiled.

He nodded, at her comment about the scars; he didn't have a clue what Digital was. They were still pink, but they weren't raw. He'd traced along and around them many a time with his thumb. He knew them like they were his own.

Abby had been somewhat shy about them at first. _Somewhat_ in that she had pretended she wasn't, but her feigned indifference hadn't fooled him. Five months after the shooting, she wouldn't let him take her top off, and he'd been alright with that. Except that Abby had never struck him as a person who liked to have sex with clothes on, she'd always been happy with her body. He'd managed to talk her out of them eventually; it's not like scars were an issue to him.

_Gibbs lowered her to the bed, resting her head on the pillows. Making sure not to rest his chest against hers, her shifted over her slightly. He slipped his hand to her hip, rubbing his thumb in gentle circles over the bone but didn't move any further. He was surprised when her hand fell on his and moved it upward, sliding it up her side. His thumb brushed the underside of her left breast lightly and she smiled against his lips. He felt the material of her shirt shift slightly, and realized that she was lifting her top up. Gripping the hem, he helped her pull it up and away._

She stood suddenly and moved to the television. As she poked a few buttons experimentally, Gibbs didn't fail to notice the way the shirt rose up when she leant over.

When she turned, he glanced quickly back to the paper, but she wasn't fooled. "You've got sex on the brain, Gibbs."

That wasn't really true. Gibbs was long past the randy teenager stage of his life, but it was just that sex with Abby was so very good. It was mostly an appreciation for her body; not in a way that ignored her mind, but rather in a way that was thankful for the fact that beneath her pale skin, blood circulated and air flowed. He'd seen her body prepare for death; seen her blood spill out from her and onto the pavement, into his jacket and over his hands. He'd heard her breathing hitch and gasp and slow down and he'd stared into her eyes, eyes that had lost their focus, as the mind controlling them slipped into darkness. Quite frankly, the warmth of her skin was something he wanted pressed against him at all times.

Making a point of ignoring her, even though it was a show, he turned the page and pretended to pay her no mind.

She laughed and turned her attention back to the T.V. With the investigative gaze she used in the lab when studying the intricacies of blood splatter, she pointed the remote at the telly.

Voices suddenly sounded from the speakers and Gibbs looked up in surprise.

"Ah! Yes, see, you've got new channels already. I should have done this months ago. Oh! Angel! Don't you love reruns?"

Gibbs raised an eyebrow at her, as if to say "are you seriously asking me that?" but had to admit that the characters were familiar.

_Freshly home from the hospital – well, not home, because there was no way Gibbs was going to let her take care of herself – and resting on the couch in his living room, Abby eyed the television in fear and waited patiently for Gibbs to return. His television was not picking up any channels except the AV, so she'd made a list of videos to hire, because he hadn't quite progressed to DVD, given him her rental card, because there was no way he'd have one himself and sent him on his way._

_He came back with a couple of episodes of Buffy, The West Wing, Doctor Who and Angel. He said that the blonde girl on the cover of the West Wing was cute and that there was no way in hell he was watching a show about a time-traveling alien, so she tapped the Angel video with a glare and instructed him to put it on. She didn't tell him it was about a vampire, but that was neither here nor there._

_Sitting on the floor, his back to the couch and her knees, he stared curiously at the Federal Warning about piracy. Her astonishment at how out of touch Gibbs was rising every second, she made a mental list of things they had to borrow down the track._

"_See, that's Cordy. She used to be really rich and snobby back when she was on Buffy, but now she's dedicated to fighting evil and helping the helpless."_

_As a hulking beast with a slimy purple head appeared on the screen, Gibbs protested that when he'd said he didn't watch alien shows, he also meant he didn't watch monster shows. The ensuing fight scene between the monster and the guy in the duster pacified him somewhat._

"Ah ha! I see recognition in yours eyes! You do remember watching this. Victory is mine, victory is mine. Great day in the morning people, victory is mine." She had a twinkle in her eyes as she said this, and even though he couldn't place it, he knew she was referencing something.

"I remember the pretty girl with the long brown hair. Cordy, did you call her? Yeah, she was cute."

Abby glared and he laughed. She made her way to the table and plopped down in her seat, picking up her now cold toast. Not deterred, she bit at the corner.

As Gibbs turned the page, something caught his eye. In the bottom right hand corner, against the fold in the middle, was a name he recognized. He read the small article.

Emma Stokes, (1924-2007) beloved mother of Cassie and Paul Stokes and devoted wife of Benjamin (1920-2007) passed away peacefully in her home this Friday morning, the twenty-sixth. She is loved and missed, but comfort is found in knowing that she led a full and happy life. She made lemonade from whatever was thrown her way.

With her Benjy once more.

Gibbs noted the header at the top of her article; "Fear not the rain. Rather, invest in a sturdy umbrella and find a friend to stand under it with."

Gibbs thought about Emma's big black umbrella, recalled standing under it in the rain as he waited for any improvement in Abby's condition. He looked up from the article to Abby. She was playing with a button on the shirt and reading the instruction booklet intently. Suddenly, reaching forward she unfolded the leaflet into a big A3 sheet. A diagram became visible and Gibbs was starting to get the impression that by the time she was done with the television, she'd have it propelling itself into space to take satellite images of Mars. He'd let her.

_Abby was finally free of the hospital. With DiNozzo's arm around her waist, she thanked the orderly as he rolled her wheel-chair back inside. Gibbs was about to unlock the car when something caught his eye._

"_Hang on, I'll be back in a minute." He pressed the button and opened the back door._

_DiNozzo nodded and helped Abby into the car. Pausing briefly to see that she was ok, Gibbs made his way over to the tree that he'd stood under in the rain when he'd met Emma. The brolly was propped up against the trunk, and a note was tucked into one of the folds of the cover._

_Crouching down, he plucked the umbrella from the tree and slipped the note out._

_Dear Mr. Gibbs and Miss Forensic Scientist,_

_For the two of you, in forty years time.._

_Love and best wishes, _

_Emma._

- - - -

Sappy, I know. I couldn't seem to help myself.

Thanks to everybody who read and reviewed this! My ego just bought an apartment in Paris, so rich was your praise.

I have a set of drabbles coming out soon that are a partner to this story. Basically, I'm assigning one to each character and exploring in more depth how they felt about Abby getting hurt. Mann for example, and the conversation between she and Gibbs about Abby. Ducky and McGee in particular still have things to say. There are things left to tie up, but I wanted this story to be apart from that.

Hope you enjoyed!


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